


To Remember

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, Slash, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-25
Updated: 2005-09-25
Packaged: 2018-09-29 22:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10146137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: One off. The War is won and over and Harry and Draco ponder at what cost.  Mentions of self-harm and possible suicide, please leave a review, im kinda pleased with this so i'd like to know what you all think.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Diclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all the characters, bla bla bla, and i'm making no money what-so-ever from this stuff.

 

Harry Potter, no longer a boy, but a man of 17 sits looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts from his dormitory window. And he fights back the tears that have threatened to engulf him everyday since the end of the war. And he thinks, he thinks of what his lost in order to give complete strangers the gift of a life without evil. And he wonders was any of it worth it? He looks around at his dormitory and see four empty beds. Beds that he knows will never be filled by the people he knew to own them. He looks to Ron’s and sees not the usual array owl treats and chocolate frog cards that would always be found on his bedside table when he was still, still…here. And he feels alone, so terribly alone. Then he looks to Neville’s and he feels the sharp nip of tears as realises that his grandmother not only had to bury her son and daughter-in-law, but also her only grandson when the death-eaters decided to finish off what they started. Slow though he was, he still fought to the end, and Harry knew she would always prefer her grandson alive and slow; than dead and the owner of an Order of Merlin first class. And once again Harry thinks to himself, was any of it worth it. He thinks of what he lost and he realises that he lost everything. He has no-one left, no-one who would care about his safety or well-being. No-one to complain about the way ‘those awful muggles treat you Harry’, he thinks hearing Mrs Weasley’s voice so clearly he looks up to see if she had walked into the room. But of course she never would, because she was dead…all the Weasley’s were. The only family he had ever known to welcome him in and love him like a son or brother had left him to live out his painful and lonely existence, just like his own parents had all those years before.

He turns to the window once more and sees the ghosts of his past play out on the snow covered ground below him. He watches as his past self has a snow ball fight with Hermione and Ron. The Golden Trio. But the thing was, two thirds of the trio was dead and Golden Boy Harry had long been thrown from his Golden Thrown, when the world realised they didn’t need him any-more. Purpose fulfilled, he was asked to leave. 

He hadn’t left his dormitory for five days except to sneak to the toilet or the kitchen covered in his invisibility cloak. He couldn’t face anybody. He didn’t go to the last of his classes even though he still had the rest of seventh year to finish. But no-one expected him to. He stayed in the dormitory and dreaded the day the day he would no longer be a pupil and have to leave. He couldn’t bear it, the very thought made him shake. The only place he had ever been happy was at Hogwarts and in his depression he was clinging on to that knowledge, no matter how painful it was to be reminded that he had lost everything that Hogwarts had given him, and made him happy.

And when he can think no more of those that he lost…the wolf, the headmaster, the family (both of them) and the godfather he thinks of The Boy. He loved the boy. More than he thought he could love anyone. Now he hated him more passionately than he had loved him. Because it was the boy that took away everything that Harry had ever loved. He used him. He made him trust him. He made him love him. Just so he could use his love to destroy him.

Voldemort’s little soldier used love to destroy him in the same way love had destroyed his ‘master’ on that fateful night. The night that made Harry the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry could barely breath whenever he thought of the boy and what he done. If he could he would get a time turner and take it all back. But even if he could he wouldn’t. For one thing he wouldn’t have Hermione telling him what a bad idea it is - making him want to do it even more. But thinking of Hermione was too painful. She was gone just like the rest of the order. And without realising he says it out loud Harry sighs:

“There is no magic strong enough to bring back the dead”

And with that reaches for the blade that has helped him every night since the end of the war.

************

Draco Malfoy walks through the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and thinks about all he lost for the sake of a war that he had no choice but to be involved in. Occasionally his thoughts would stray to Harry Potter and every time they did his breath would stop in his throat and he would blink back tears. More frequently he would think of how he was used as pawn. 

He thought of the way Voldemort had discovered his relationship with Harry. He thought of how terrified and torn he felt when Voldemort forced him to choose between Harry and the Order and his mother and father. Although Voldemort didn’t understand love, he did understand how manipulate it. And so Draco believing in Voldemort’s honour (What a fool, he thinks angrily) told him the orders where-about. With Dumbledore dead he could easily locate it.

But Voldemort did not keep his word. 

He sobs into his hands as he recalls seeing his parents slump forward before his very eyes as Voldemort administered the killing curse. He remembers running, running so fast he could barely see. Running from the Dark Mark that hovered over his home, running from the sound of callous laughter. And he remembers thinking “what have I done?”.

He soon found out. Two days later the entire Order was obliterated and Harry drunk with grief hunted Voldemort down and to Draco’s intense surprise won. He was the last one standing. And Draco remembers how shocked he was when he read the news in the Daily Prophet and he how he cried at the knowledge that Harry would soon come and kill him too.

But Harry did not kill him, he found him. And he kept his voice perfectly empty of any emotion and with dull green eyes said one word:

“why?”

Before leaving the room. And that was what had killed Draco inside, that was what broke his heart. He wanted Harry to hate him the way he hated himself. He wanted Harry to be angry at him, to kill him, to make him pay for what he done.

And so Draco continues to pace in the dungeons wishing his life was over, wishing someone would administer to him the death penalty. But most of all he wishes that Harry will one day stop hating him, even though it was easier to do what he was about to do when he knew no-one would care when they found him.

With a sigh he reaches, for the last time, for the blade that has helped him everyday since the end of the war.


End file.
